


And the World Will Keep on Turning

by TempestuousSerenity



Category: Hetalia: Axis Powers
Genre: Gen, Historical Hetalia, Hurt/Comfort, Implied/Referenced Rape/Non-con, Post-Traumatic Stress Disorder - PTSD, Rape Aftermath, Rape Recovery, Sengoku Period Japan
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-07-28
Updated: 2019-07-28
Packaged: 2020-07-19 13:23:35
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Rape/Non-Con
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,627
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/19974781
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/TempestuousSerenity/pseuds/TempestuousSerenity
Summary: “It is the right of war for conquerors to treat those whom they have conquered according to their pleasure.” —Julius CaesarJapan’s new ruler decides to demonstrate just how much control he has over the nation of Japan.Struggling to cope in the aftermath of that fateful night, Japan finds himself clinging to the past and seeks out the only nation who has always been able to ease his pain.





	And the World Will Keep on Turning

**Author's Note:**

> Inspired by the unfinished strip, “The World at War and the Fool of Owari”

Japan stumbled from the room, clutching his kimono to his body as he fled. He was barefoot, having forgotten his tabi and zori in his haste to get away. On the very fringes of his awareness, he could sense a viscous fluid dribbling down the insides of his thighs, and even after everything that had happened, a small part of him still had enough pride to feel the harsh sting of disgust and shame.

Japan was fully expecting to run into Owari, or at least a guard or two—what he intended to do when he met one of them, he hadn't put any thought into yet—but luckily, he encountered no one. The castle may have seemed empty, but somewhere in the back of his mind, Japan knew it wasn't. Considering where they were, it had to be teeming with guards protecting the lavish castle and the man who resided within its walls. With a sickening twist of his stomach, it occurred to Japan that he wasn't "escaping" at all; rather, that man was _letting him go_. What arrogance. It was as if he were saying to him, "You can run, but you can't hide. Not from me." Maybe he was right.

Japan was conquered.

Japan had no idea where he was going, crashing blindly through a maze of opulent rooms before finally bursting outdoors and nearly falling down the steep steps set into the mountain. No one stopped him. He kept running and running and running on wobbly legs, tripping over rocks and his own feet but hardly registering any of it. He didn't stop until he was well into the hills and his lungs felt as if they were about to burst.

The summer night air bit at his exposed skin, but Japan couldn't be bothered to cover himself up better. His hands were shaking, and his scraped feet and knees were starting to hurt, but not nearly as much as the searing pain in his backside.

Japan's throat felt tight. Finally away from immediate danger, he sank down to the ground and wept.

* * *

Over the next few days, many of his clans came to check up on him, but Japan refused the audience of each and every one of them. He spent his days within the dark confines of his house, rolled up in his futon and shut off from the world.

He didn't want his clans to see him like this. It was disgraceful. He knew that as he was now, they wouldn't be able to bear looking at him.

After all, _Japan_ couldn't even bear to look at himself. The dark bruises on his hips and wrists only served as a horrible reminder. As if that wasn't bad enough alongside the constant fear that his new ruler would come to fetch him again. His sheathed katana sat within reach, just in case.

All alone in the quiet house and left to nothing but his own thoughts, a storm of emotions soon threatened to overtake him. His citizens—they—well...he didn't know _how_ to feel toward them. They revered him, did things for his sake, and even claimed that they loved him (and gods, how he loved them, too, the very fabric of his soul), but to think that they were also capable of turning around and even...even when he had been crying and begging him to stop—

" _You know you want this. You_ do _want Japan to be reunified, don't you?"_

Japan felt bile rising in his throat. He clenched his eyes shut, as if his eyelids could shut out the unwanted memories.

What right had he had? How dare he make it—how dare he make it _feel good_ _—_

For the first time in a while, Japan longed for his childhood, for when things were simple and China could erase all his fear and pain with a single hug. When he was younger, he had never fully appreciated China's displays of affection, but now he longed for China's warm embrace so much that he could feel the ache deep in his bones. He hugged his futon closer to his body.

It had been ages since Japan had last spoken to China. It was not that they were on bad terms, just that things had gotten especially hectic since the Ōnin War. In the wake of that conflict, Japan had found himself falling out of touch with China, having been preoccupied with the issues in his own home. After he neglected him for so long, would China still want to see him?

At first, Japan was sure he wouldn't, but as he continued to lay there, he became less sure. A hug from China was beginning to sound better and better by the second.

Maybe it was because he was in pain, or maybe it was because he was so desperately lonely, but eventually Japan found himself packing a travel bag.

* * *

Japan didn't send a notice that he was coming.

When he showed up at one of the homes China had raised him in, he was surprised to find that it was still standing. The village it was located in had grown considerably since he'd last been there, but China's house, bar a few improvements, looked relatively the same. It made sense, he supposed; China's house was, after all, located in a rural area where rice paddies stretched as far as the eye could see, and things didn't seem to change much out here.

A wave of nostalgia washed over him, and as he stepped forward with his knuckles poised to knock, his body suddenly froze.

This was a crazy idea. He hadn't seen or even spoken with China in centuries, and he expected him to accept him with open arms? Would China even be staying at this house? His habits may have changed over the years.

Before he could let his anxiety get the better of him, however, he heard a loud crash. Whipping his eyes up, he found China standing in the open doorway a mere few feet in front of him, not looking a single day older than he had when Japan last saw him all those decades ago. Shards of porcelain from the dish or vase he had just dropped littered the floor at China's feet.

There was a moment of shocked silence, and then China was sprinting forward without so much as a word and pulling Japan into a bone-crushing hug, the destroyed porcelain completely forgotten.

Just like that, Japan's stoic facade crumbled. He dropped his bag to the ground and found himself returning the hug, squeezing his arms as hard as he could and burying his face in China's shoulder.

* * *

"You've really grown up."

"I'm surprised you still recognized me."

China grinned as he poured tea for the both of them. "I'd recognize you anywhere."

Japan let a small smile find its way to his face. Coming here had been a great idea after all.

" _Aiyah!_ It’s been so long, and yet it feels like it was just yesterday that you were drawing me pictures. Unfortunately, a lot of those have crumbled away, but your ceramics are still intact. See, there’s one right there! Do you remember that?" China said, pointing out a poorly sculpted vase sitting nearby. "When you were little, you accidentally broke one of my ancient vases and tried to replicate it, thinking I wouldn't notice the difference."

Japan tried to hide his embarrassment by taking a sip of his tea.

"Funny," China gazed at the misshapen vase fondly. "I've grown to like that vase even more than the original vase it was based on."

Though Japan had not been sitting at the small table for long, the position put weight on sore spots that he preferred not to think about. Quickly growing uncomfortable, he tried to discreetly shift his weight and reposition himself. If China noticed, he didn't say anything.

"So, what brings you here after all these years?" China asked, finally cutting to the chase.

Japan panicked. He hadn't really thought of a plausible excuse yet. He had been sort of hoping that China would read the atmosphere and not ask.

"Oh...you know. With all the conflict at my place, I started feeling nostalgic." It wasn't a total lie.

"Mmhm. And what is the real reason you're here?"

Japan blanched. "What do you mean?"

"Don't kid yourself. I know you well enough to know that you wouldn't travel this far just to chat."

Japan swallowed thickly. "I don't want to talk about it."

But China seemed to know. He eyed Japan with pity and sighed, emptying the remaining tea in his small teacup and excusing himself from the table.

After some time he returned, setting a small clay pot on the tabletop in front of Japan. "If you're still in pain, use this."

Japan lifted the lid to find an oily compound that smelled strongly of herbs.

"It won't heal your mind, but it will at least soothe your body."

Japan thanked him profusely, but China waved his formalities away.

That night, they slept side by side just as they had in the old days. 

* * *

Japan woke up in a cold sweat. The house was dark and silent, the only sound in the stillness being his own ragged breath.

There was the sound of shifting beside him, then China was on his side, wide eyes facing Japan. "Nightmare?"

Japan gave a curt nod. China reached out to comfort him, but Japan shrank away from his touch.

There was no hurt in China's eyes as he retracted his outstretched hand. Unfazed, China walked to the doors and threw them open, letting ghostly moonlight stream into the room.

"Care to watch the moon? We can sit out on the porch like we used to."

Japan's eyes flicked from his sleeping mat, to China, to the porch, and back to his mat. "Actually...I think it would be better to lie here on my stomach."

"Okay," China said, and Japan was relieved that he didn't detect disappointment in his voice. China made his way back to his own mat and planted himself there. "We can just watch from here."

Japan didn't protest. He laid back down and let the moonlight lap at his legs.

"Would you like to hear a story?"

Japan did. When he was little and would wake up from a nightmare, China would always tell him a story, sometimes fictional and sometimes autobiographical, to soothe him back to sleep. The stories always took his mind off whatever was frightening him, and right now, he wanted nothing more than to hear one. Instead, he said, "I don't mind either way."

China was silent, and at first, Japan thought that China wouldn't tell him a story after all. He was proved wrong when a moment later, China hesitantly opened his mouth. "I don't think this is a story you'll want to hear, especially right now, but I think you need to hear it. It's from a long time ago, before I even met you. During my Warring States period." 

Japan could feel dread pooling in his gut, but he nodded anyway, giving China permission to tell the story.

China's eyes glazed over, as if he was looking directly into the distant past, and his voice became serious, no trace of his usual cheerfulness to be found. "Long ago, my country splintered into numerous different states, all at war with one another and fighting for control of me. This was my Warring States period. There was so much conflict, and my body constantly ached. I felt so fractured all the time. I spent a lot of time wandering from village to village, from state to state, since it helped take my mind off my country's troubles. However, one day as I was traveling, I ran into one state's advancing armies. The general was able to sense what I was, and he abducted me."

Japan tensed up, but China continued his story.

"It's funny; I don't even remember which state it was. You would think I would remember something like that. But I'm sure you can imagine what happened. After the general had his way with me, he dumped me in a tent with only one sentinel to guard it. After what he'd done, he really seemed to think he had the nation of China beneath his thumb! Needless to say, I managed to escape quite easily, and was able to return to my normal life. But maybe he was right about having me under his thumb...for a long while afterward I was—gosh, I was a mess. I hid in a small village for a while, but a different general eventually sniffed me out. He stormed the village and took me by force. And while I got better at avoiding them, encounters of this nature continued on despite my best efforts. One time my own village even handed me over of their own volition. Granted, they didn't have much of a choice; the army had threatened to annihilate the village if they didn't."

Japan was speechless. On some unconscious level, he supposed he always knew China had endured a great deal more than he had, but he had never known to what extent. Had he endured it all alone?

In the lapse of silence that followed, Japan whispered, "How can you speak so calmly about it?" His voice sounded much smaller than he intended it to.

China's eyes were steely. "You get used to it."

A shiver ran down Japan's spine. For the first time, it struck him—really _struck him_ —how incomprehensibly old China was. It scared him a little.

"You know, I haven't always been like this—jaded, I mean. At first, I was a mess of emotions—hurt, disgust, betrayal. For a brief moment, I even felt hatred for my people. But that was unfair of me."

China gazed sadly at Japan and ruffled his hair.

"Those with the potential to rule can sense what we are, and they want. Oh, how they _want_. Human greed is a terrifying thing. But there are also those just trying to live. In the past, politics and war only ate away at my soul and body until there was nothing left. The bosses being, well, _bosses_ , it became better to stay out of their way altogether. Eventually I came to the realization that I was happiest when I lived among the common people and enjoyed life alongside them. I hid among them and shared their triumphs and their pain. Even though it wasn't always easy, it was the only thing that made me feel whole, made me really feel like _China_ again. Yet even so, humans are so ephemeral. They come and go in the blink of an eye, and sometimes it made me feel like I would go insane with loneliness. But then you came along, and you made the loneliness bearable."

A note of tenderness had crept into China's voice.

"Kiku."

Japan started at the use of his human name.

"You may be the personification of the nation of Japan, representative of every single person who constitutes it, but you're also just yourself. Kiku is just as real as Japan, and he matters just as much, too. Remember that."

Midway through the story, China had begun to run his fingers through Japan's hair. Japan had calmed down considerably and let him do it, secretly enjoying the gentle sensation of China's fingertips against his scalp. It reminded him of when he was a child and they would watch the moon together, China sitting on the porch and Japan resting his head in China's lap as he rhythmically combed his fingers through Japan's dark locks. This time, though, it felt as if China was doing it just as much to comfort himself as to comfort Japan.

"But that's a rather heavy note to end a story on," China remarked, a bit of his usual cheerfulness returning to his voice. "How about a happier tale?"

Japan closed his eyes as China droned on about some myth or other, his mind still on China's first story. China didn't have to tell him such a personal story, but he had. Japan realized this, and he was honored that China trusted him enough to recount it to him. He couldn't deny that he was touched, too, that China was willing to dredge up those buried memories for his sake.

Japan was all too aware of why China had decided to tell him that story, and just as China had said, he may not have _wanted_ to hear it—hearing about a vulnerable China bothered him for some reason, and it reawakened memories he had been trying hard to bury—but he had _needed_ to hear it. He tried not to let it show, but he was lost. He had no idea how to pick himself up and move forward as Japan, much less as Kiku. China could have simply started preaching at him, though if that had been the case, Japan probably would have gone out of his way to do the exact opposite of whatever China advised. Both he and China knew that all too well.

For China to tell him this story...there was something raw and real and genuine about it. It conveyed deep understanding, sympathy, and camaraderie—much different from the belittling pity he hated so much to receive. There were many lessons hidden within China's story, even if China didn't explicitly state what they were. Japan would have his work cut out for him gleaning the answers he sought from China's experiences, but he wouldn't have it any other way.

" _Kiku is just as real as Japan, and he matters just as much, too."_

China's words repeated themselves in his head, and just as sleep began to claim him, Japan found himself wondering what he had ever done to deserve a brother like China.

* * *

Days bled into weeks and weeks bled into months.

Before long, Japan had been staying at China's house for nearly half a year.

Japan's body had healed long ago, but he was hesitant to return to a country full of warlords hell-bent on dominating him. Even if the physical wounds were gone, the psychological ones were still fresh in his mind.

In the meantime, he had been reading books, drawing, drinking tea, and playing Go and Pai Gow with China. When he was feeling up to it, he even helped China harvest rice. It was a sufficient distraction, and little by little, he felt himself returning to normal. Or at least, something resembling normal.

China didn't push Japan to go back to his country. He seemed to realize it would have to be a decision Japan made on his own, and Japan was grateful for the understanding. However, being separated from his people for so long was starting to take its toll on him. It was becoming common for China to find Japan staring eastward with a vacant expression on his face.

They both knew that he would have to return soon.

Then one morning at breakfast, Japan announced that he would be heading back home the following day.

China helped him pack his things without comment.

The next morning, Japan stood in front of China's house with his travel bag in hand and China standing beside him.

For a long while they simply stood next to each other without saying a word. For his part, Japan was not quite sure what to say. He had spent the better part of the night rehearsing this moment in his head, but he had never settled on a fitting farewell. There was so much he wanted to say to China: thanks for letting him stay, thanks for sharing his story and advice, thanks for the medicine, thanks for just _being_ _there_.

But instead he said nothing. He had never been good at expressing himself.

It was only when they couldn't delay departure any longer that either of them moved.

"Japan," China turned to him, taking Japan's face in his hands. "I can't promise you that everything will be fine now. It hurts me to say it, but things may get even worse for you."

Japan held China's gaze. As much as it terrified him, he had already come to terms with the risk.

"I want you to know that you are welcome here any time. No matter what happens in China or Japan or between the two, you _—_ Kiku _—_ will _always_ be welcome in my house."

A thousand emotions flickered behind Japan's eyes. He opened his mouth, feeling compelled to say something _, anything—_ but China shushed him.

"Shh, I know. I know." China pulled him into an embrace. "You will always be my little brother, okay? No matter what happens."

Japan felt a stab of emotion as he hugged China back, tears beginning to brim at his eyelashes. Of course, only _now_ did he start feeling sentimental.

"Thank you, big brother." The words tumbled from his mouth before he could stop them.

China stiffened and drew back slowly. "Did you just…?"

Japan stared back at him blankly, the words he'd spoken echoing stupidly in his ears.

China's cheeks grew pink. "I-I think that's first time you've called me that."

Was it really? Japan wracked his brain and realized that yes—it _was_ the first time he'd ever called China his big brother. "I—yes...I suppose it is."

China beamed, a huge smile threatening to split his face as he tackled Japan in a tight hug, squeezing him with such force that Japan feared his ribs might snap. It was clingy and doting and so, so familiar—

And for the first time in years, Japan laughed.

**Author's Note:**

> While Japan was technically “born” in 660 BC, according to the Hetalia Archives wiki timeline, China didn’t meet him until sometime between the 5th and 8th century AD, which checks out, since cultural exchange between China and Japan didn’t begin until the Yamato came to power.
> 
> I purposefully didn’t refer to Japan’s rapist by name, but I feel like I’ve dropped enough clues to make his identity easy to figure out. If you can figure out the name of the castle mentioned in the first part, you’ll even have an approximate date.
> 
> ~
> 
> On a personal note: Never thought I'd find myself writing Hetalia fanfiction, but here I am. I’ve been really struggling with writer’s block lately, so when I suddenly felt inspired to write this, I decided to just go with the flow and see what happened. It didn’t turn out quite like I had originally hoped it would, but frankly, I'm just glad that I was able to get this story finished. It feels good to be productive, even if I'm not 100% satisfied with the final result.
> 
> Even though this was mainly an exercise in staving off writer's block and getting back into the swing of writing, I hope I was able to do China and Japan's relationship justice.


End file.
